Clowns and Helium
by Degonda
Summary: Kids are dying with smiles on their faces. Dean must face two of his biggest fears… clowns and entertaining children. Humorfic. R&R is love!
1. Cabin Fever

**Clowns and Helium**

Summary: Kids are dying with smiles on their faces. Dean must face two of his biggest fears… clowns and entertaining children.

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own Supernatural. If you do use any part of my story, please just inform me and give me credit.

……………………………………………

"Dean, just stop it! I swear, you are like a dog with a bone."

Sam pushed Dean's hands away for the tenth time, preventing him from drawing yet another line or picture on any part of his exposed skin. Dean smirked, knowing he could go at least another fifteen minutes without pissing Sam off enough to make him worry for his personal safety. Still, Sam was doing them both a favor by finding the next gig as fast as he could, but being cooped up in this one horse town –_What kind of town doesn't even have a bar?_- was making Dean go stir crazy.

He sat contemplating how hard it would be to draw a pentagram on his brother's bare foot when Sam gave a small gasp.

"Dean, I think I got something." He leaned in toward the screen as Dean walked around behind him.

"Where?"

"Pristo, Pennsylvania. A boy was found dead in his bed the day after his eighth birthday. The article says he had no major bodily injuries, but get this. When the parents found him, his eyes were wide open and he was smiling."

"Smiling? Like happy smiling?"

"Kinda. His lips were smiling, but the rest of his face was contorted, like in horror. The coroner said if it wasn't for the smile, he would have thought the kid died of fright. Also, some blood vessels had popped in his eyes, making them bleed. Apparently, this is the fourth kid in as many weeks. Some other papers are calling it the Bloody Teared Killer, even though there are no signs of another person in the room when the kids die."

Dean straightened up, smacking Sam on the back.

"Great, let's get going brother. We got a bit of drive to go."

"Yup. I'll get the bags, you check out." Sam stood as he shut down the laptop, packing it up and moving onto his clothing bag.

Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket from his bed. He glanced at Sam's back for a second before taking the quick walk to the front desk, a grin plaster on his face. _See, that's what happen when you are wrapped up in your work. You don't notice the little things. Like a smilie face on your neck._

…………………………………………….

_Author's note: Short chapter, I know. But it's a set up for the rest of the fic. It's going to be humorous (hopefully). I'll be updating as soon as I can._


	2. Chicks and Private Dicks

_Author's note: Short chapter, I know. But it's a set up for the rest of the fic. It's going to be humorous (hopefully). I'll know I haven't updated in forever, but I've been... busy... yeah, busy. And I've been trying to write a few chapters before updating so the next update won't take forever to happen. Oh, and I forgot to mention in the last disclaimer that I completely made up the name of Pristo, PA so if it is real, then I'm sorry and don't sue! So hope you enjoy. R and R is love!_

……………………………………………...

**Chicks and Private Dicks**

The next day found the boys in yet another motel, but this time –_Thank you sweet merciful god_- a larger town, complete with a bar. And this was exactly where Sam and Dean were. Dean's reasoning of "what better place to find some info on these kids than at a bar" had persuaded Sam to spend a few hours nursing his single beer while looking over his notes yet again. Dean found comfort in a game of pool, which he began hustling almost before stepping inside the room.

Sam had the notebook out, along with about a dozen newspaper clippings; most including pictures of the victims. _Cause nothing brings out the empathy like a smiling dead boy_, Sam thought grimly.

"You know, I wouldn't advertise your obsession with young boys in this town if I were you." Sam raised his head at the sweet sounding voice and found himself staring into the blue eyes of one of the waitresses.

"Actually, I wouldn't recommend it in any town. We've got enough MJs in the world already, if you know what I mean."

Sam blinked in confusion. "Uhhh, MJs?"

"Michael Jackson."

"Oh. OH!" Sam scooted his chair a bit back from the table while dropping a rather large picture of one of the boys. "No no. It's not like that." Sam stopped, taking a breath. _Come on Sam. It's no good acting like a child molester caught with his hand in the cookie jar or wherever that kind of hand would be… and I so did not want to go there._

Pulling himself out of his internal dialogue, Sam flashed, what he hoped to be, a strong smile.

"No, I'm a police officer. FBI actually. I was just put on assignment to look into the recent deaths here." The waitress sighed, visibly relaxing.

"Oh, okay then. What do you need to know?"

Sam gave a quick gasp in surprise, covering for himself by sipping his beer. _Could it really be this easy?_ The girl gave a slightly sad smile. "This is a bar. People come here to gossip. I'm Beth, by the way."

"Sam." They shook hands. "So Beth, what do you know about the child deaths in the past month?"

"I know they were all young. And died with a weird face. And…" She paused, looking away. She wrung her hands, almost debating if she should continue. Sam could swear she had a tear in her eye.

"Beth, you okay?"

She nodded, still looking away. "The second boy, Jessie. He was my nephew. The day before he died, I spend the day with him." She looked back into Sam's eyes. "I don't think I even told him that I loved him. And then he died, and…"

Sam nodded in sympathy. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He flipped through his notes, finding Jessie's case. He glanced back up, finding Beth staring at him, a look of slight confusion on her face. "Sorry, I just wanted to checking something on Jessie's file. You spend the day before he died with him? All day?" Beth nodded. 'Did he seem strange in anyway? Or did you get seperated from him at anytime where something might have happened to him without your knowledge?"

"Uhhh, no I don't think so. We had lunch, saw a movie, went on a few rides at a carnival, had dinner with a few friends and then I took him home."

Sam chewed on his lip, trying to put together a puzzle that he knew was missing quite a few pieces. "What movie was it? And where did you see it?"

"We went to a small theatre. I know the owner and got a special showing for Jess. He loves the movie 'It' so I got a private viewing."

Beth sat, seeming to pull something over in her head. "You know, I already told the police all this, so it's in my statement" Her tightened her lips and stared into Sam's eyes. "What was Jessie's mother's name?"

It was now Sam's turn to freeze, completely caught by surprise. "Uh, what?" _Shit._

"I said what was my nephew's mother's name? You should know that, being on the case right?" Beth raised an expecting eyebrow and Sam knew he was scarily close to being busted.

"The FBI sends you here to investigate children dying and you don't even know the victim's immediate family? Show me your badge."

_Double shit._ "Uhhh." Sam shifted in his seat, suddenly aware how hot it was in the bar. "I'm sure I have that information somewhere in my file and as for my badge…" Sam reached into his pocket, his eyes widening slightly as his fingers grasped air. _Fuck._

Beth frowned and stood. "Yeah, I thought so. Tony! I need you!" Sam didn't think his eyes could widen any more, but apparently, he was wrong. A 300 lb. bouncer was not something he wanted to deal with right now. And of course, his FBI badge was in the car, being that he and Dean had never actually decided to play the FBI card tonight.

Sam began to breathe a little easier when an average sized man walking toward him. At least until he saw the badge on his belt. _Oh come on. Can't I get a break here?_ H glanced at Dean, who had completely stopped playing his game of pool and stood watching, ready to jump in at a moment's notice. Sam shook his head slightly, signally him to stay away for now. _So you can bust me out of jail later._

Sam pulled his attention back to "Tony", who was now standing in front of him, staring down at Sam. Sam smiled, trying to look more like a scared puppy than a full grown man in serious trouble.

"Is there a problem here Beth?" Tony, it seemed, was not one to be trifled with and judging by how he stood near Beth and glared down at Sam, Bobby had dealt with his share of guys, most of which were probably drunk and getting too close to the help. Sam blinked as he realized Bobby was waiting for an answer.

"No sir. No problem." Tony glanced at Beth, raising his eyebrows. She gave a slight huff in frustration.

"He was asking questions about Jessie. He says he's FBI, but carries no badge. And look." Before Sam could stop her, she reached forward, snatching the file from the table. "Look! Isn't this, like, almost finding naked photos or something? He has pictures of dead children Tony!" Sam gave a mental wince. _Shit fuck god damn it why me?_

Tony started flipping thru the file, acting very interested in its contents. "Well son? Care to explain?" Sam swallowed and could feel his heart beat quicken. _Just for once, why can't Dean get caught with the pictures of dead children? He's the liar of the family._

'Well, sir." Sam cleared his throat, trying to stall as he thought up his story that wouldn't end with him getting put into jail. "I…"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE THE MONEY!" Every head in the bar turned to the voice that would make Paul Bunyan shake in fear at that volume. The yelling, as was the several punches being thrown quickly after, belonged to Dean. Evidentially, he was tired of watching Sam squirm and finally decided to lend a hand. His unexpected fight quickly escalated as drunken men decided to join in the fun, forcing Tony away from Sam. Right behind her friend, Beth gave Sam a look that would kill a cactus before running over to save as many glasses and chairs as possible. A smaller salary because of a few broken dishes seemed to be a bit more important at the moment.

Sam blew out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. As quickly as he could without attracting attention, Sam slid to the door and escaped the building, which wasn't too difficult considering Dean was putting up quite an act at his drunk and disorderly conduct. _Please let it be an act._

……………………………………………….

A few minutes passed with Sam leaning against the Impala, waiting patiently for the inevitable and silently thanking the gods for Dean's quick thinking. Just as predicted, the bar door flew open, quickly followed by the flailing body of Dean and a couple rather large men. Landing on his side, he rolled easily away from the now closed door. Somewhere mid-roll however, something –most likely the vast amount of alcohol already consumed- caught up to Dean and he landed quite ungracefully flat on his butt. Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Wow Dean. Impressive."

Dean scowled up, slowly pulling himself onto his knees. "I should say the same to you. What the hell happened in there? One minute you were talking to Mama Long Legs and the next you got a cop going through our research?"

Sam sighed, reaching a hand out to help his brother up to his feet. "I don't know. She was sharp, not to mention related to one of the victims."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Wow brother. You are like honey to flies. All the trouble in town wants you."

Rolling his eyes, Sam turned toward the car. "I think it's time to visit the families. Maybe take a look at the kid's bedroom, do an EMF sweep."

Dean nodded and pulled the keys from his pocket. He tossed them to his brother, who was already moving to the passenger door.

"You must really be drunk, Dean, if you are letting me drive." Sam chuckled, fiddling with the keys before jumping into the driver's side. Dean was fast to follow, folding his arm under his head against the window.

"Yeah, that's it Sammy. I'm piss drunk. And I didn't just get the crap beaten out of me just to save your ass from being arrested and I'm not tired and want to catch a few winks. So I'm just going to be drunk over here and you sit over there, not being arrested." Dean gave a small grimace as his bruised head bumped against the window as the car pulled out of the bar parking lot. "Oh, and by the way, Sammy. Maybe we should wait until it's not the middle of the night before dropping by the family's places."

Sam looked at his half asleep brother, who was clearly smirking. "Dude, I'm not an idiot. We'll go talk to the families later. I'm sure they'll give us something to work with. And you know this is a brilliant idea."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_So... like it? Hate it? I know not much happened, but the next chapter will have a lot more. I promise. And I'll update... soon. I really don't know how some people update daily. I can barely make it once a month. So please R & R cause it'll inspire me to update faster. Especially because my muse seems to have taken a leave of absence. Or maybe she quit without giving her two weeks. Stupid muse._


	3. The Wolf's Den

**Clowns and Helium**

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own Supernatural. If you do use any part of my story, please just inform me and give me credit.

……………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter 3: The Wolf's Den**

"Brilliant idea, Sammy." Dean threw a dirty scowl over his shoulder at Sam, storming away from the fourth house. "Let's go visit the families." Dean waved his head side to side, using his sing-sing voice of taunt. "Let's go talk to the parents whose kids aren't even a month dead and expect them to _not_ slam the door in our faces." He yanked the door to the Impala open, glaring while rolling his eyes which was not particularly easy but got his level of aggravation across.

Sam followed behind, shoulders slightly hunched. "What did you expect, Dean?" Sam slid into the passenger seat and pulled out his notebook. "You can't expect them to not get a little weirded out when you start asking questions about 'the last thing your child said before dying' or 'weird sounds from the bedroom'. And it really didn't help that you were drooling over that last mom."

"Dude, did you even look at the woman? She was hot, like so-majorly-hot-she-shouldn't-be-a-mom kind of hot. Definitely some MILF action there."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You really do have to start thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean, or else it'll die from lack of use. And I'm guessing you forgot about Andrea Barr? She was a mom and you didn't seem to have a problem throwing your one-liners at her." He paused, tempted to continue. Deciding to stop while he was ahead, he snapped his notebook shut. "Next time, just try to show a little bit of some emotion other than horny followed by more horny, okay? Let's hit the Thomm's next. Their son, Mark, was the first victim, so that makes it about 5 weeks ago. They live on Mason Ave."

Dean sighed, his frustration seeping through. "There's probably not going to be a lot of evidence left by now Sam."

Sam nodded, unconsciously picking at his jeans. "I know. But we gotta try."

The weight of the world pressing down on his brother's shoulders didn't go unnoticed by Dean. He waited a few minutes before trying to permeating the angst fog that Sam had wrapped himself into for the past day.

"Okay dude. Spill."

Sam pulled his eyes away from the passing scenery to look at Dean with a confused look. "Uh… spill what?"

"Spill what weight you are carrying that is so heavy you look a bit like Igor?"

Sam sighed and ruffled his hair. He knew he wasn't getting out of this one because Dean had that "I'm not taking any 'I'm fine' today buster" voice. "This case is just bothering me. I mean, these victims have nothing in common. All different ages, different nationalities, nothing connecting their families. Usually these things are easier to figure out. And… It's just…"

Dean nodded. "They're kids. It's never easy when it's kids."

Sam swallowed the small lump in his throat, nodding.

…………………………………………

Twenty minutes later, the Impala rumbled to stop in front of a large house, white with blue shutters and a perfectly green front lawn. Dean rolled his eyes as he looked to the left and right, finding clones of that house all the way down the street. Except for the dozen or so balloons, which were threatening to pull the mailbox out of the concrete slab by the sidewalk.

"Huh." Dean smirked. "Sammy, I think you got your wires crossed. A month after their kid dies and they're throwing a party?"

Sam sighed, pointing to the balloons. "They say 'Happy Birthday Steven'. That's Mark's little brother." He gave a quick head shake in sympathy. "That can't be easy. Trying to celebrate your birthday only a month after your brother dies."

"Yeah, and that means more pissed off parents who don't want to talk about their dead kids. And that means we'll probably get kicked out onto our asses again."

"Dude, could you try to show some sympathy? You know, maybe just for kicks?" He stared, completely appalled at Dean's attitude. Sam's face darkened and he lowered his voice. "And you should know better than to think people don't hurt after someone they love dies."

Dean froze. His eyes shifted to the ground. "I was just kidding. Geez."

Sam raised his eyebrow, rolling his thoughts in his head. Deciding a harsh glare was punishment enough, he walked to the front door. Dean stepped up beside him, his ID –_oh sure, now he brings it_- in hand.

"Ready?" Sam glanced over.

"Sure thing." Dean flashed a grin. "Let's get it on."

Sam gave a light knock on the door. He shuffled his feet a bit, preparing himself to comfort yet another distraught mother and father.

The door opened and Dean found himself staring into thin air. He blinked in confusion. _Did that door just open itself?_ An elbow to the side caught his attention and found Sam gesturing to the lower half of the doorway. A young boy stood with one hand on the doorknob, the other holding a half eaten popsicle. He stared up silently at the brothers.

Sam gave a warm smile. "Hi there. Is your mom here?" The boy shook his head. Sam's forehead crinkled. "Is your dad?" Another shake. With a concerned glance to his brother, Sam gave a third try. "Are there any grown-ups watching you guys?"

Right on cue, a thin hand came out from behind the door, grabbing the boy's arm. The hand continued up, revealing it's owner to be a young blonde woman holding a sleeping baby in her free arm. She gave a quick smile to the boys and kneeled down, staring at the boy.

"Hey buddy, the rule in this house is only the grownups can open the door if someone knocks, okay?" The boy nodded, quickly running into the room of screaming children without so much as a glance back. The woman stood, turning to the brothers with a smile that clearly didn't reach her eyes. "Can I help you?"

Dean smirked. _Oh, in so many ways._ That was definitely tempting to say aloud, but it looked like Mrs. Thomm's stress level was already hitting 11 right now.

"Yes Ma'me. You are Mrs. Jillian Thomm, correct? I'm FBI Agent Tyler." Dean motioned to Sam. "This is Agent Durton. We've been put on assignment to look into the recent child deaths in the area and we would like to talk to you as part of the investigation. May we come in?"

"Ummm…" Mrs. Thomm glanced behind her as the sound of several children screaming in delight and laughter filled the hallway. "This really isn't a good time. It's my son's birthday and we're trying to make it as happy as possible. I just don't have time right now, I'm sorry."

As she moved to close the door, Dean gave a 'told you so' look at Sam. Without warning, Sam's hand shot out, catching the door.

"Ma'me. This is pretty important and we are on a time limit. But if you need someone to watch the children while we talk, Agent Tyler here is more than capable. He's great with kids."

Dean's jaw dropped so far so fast, Sam was sure he had unhinged it like a snake before swallowing its food. Dean's eyes widened enough to see the whites, but the only protest was a gargling in the back of his wide open throat. Sam choked down a laugh, making sure to smile sweetly at his brother. Dean glanced at Jillian, his look of shock melting into bewilderment at the look of relief on the woman's face. "You would really be okay doing that, Agent Tyler?"

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Glancing sidewise with murder in his eye, Dean gave a nervous grin. "Uhh, yeah. I'll be okay."

Nodding, Jillian opened the door completely, allowing the boys to enter. As soon as her back was turned, Dean turned to his brother, poking him sharply in the chest and whispered, "You better get some information out of that woman, or so help me god, I will smother you in your sleep for making me do this."

Sam just nodded, unsure if he would burst out laughing if he opened his mouth. Jillian was already moving down the hall and disappeared into room filled with joyous shrieks. The boys held off their bantering, following her into what Dean considered the sixth level of hell. Life without sex being number seven, of course.

Entering the living room, they found every piece of furniture pushed to the side, so the room was now the general playroom for the two dozen or so children, each of which was either running, screaming, or doing both at the same time. Standing against a wall were two male teenagers, both obviously hired to baby-sit and just as obviously in way over their heads. Jillian handed off the baby to one of them, spoke to the other while pointed toward Dean. The relief of having someone else responsible for the children was clear in their eyes.

Sam glanced sidewise at his brother, trying to gage if he should be fearing for his life later. Dean just stared forward at the sea of miniature people, blinking. "Sam. I cannot tell you how much you are going to owe me later."

Sam grinned, deciding to take a risk. "Have fun", he whispered, patting Dean on the back before turning to follow Jillian.

Dean stared forward. Slowly, the children realized there was an actual adult –_Yeah, I wouldn't think of The Baby-sitters Club over there as adults either_- in the room and slowed down, finally coming to a stop. Two dozen pairs of eyes stared at Dean, who thrust his hands into his pockets, shifting uncomfortably in his boots.

"So. ­­­­Anybody here ever use a .45 before?"

……………………………………………………

_So, love it? Hate it? Begging for it to move along? Let me know!_


End file.
